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At Oranmore in the County Galway, |
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One pleasant evening in the month of May, |
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I spied a damsel, she was young and handsome |
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Her beauty fairly took my breath away. |
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Chorus: |
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She wore no jewels, nor costly diamonds, |
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No paint or powder, no, none at all. |
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But she wore a bonnet with a ribbon on it |
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And round her shoulder was a Galway Shawl. |
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We kept on walking, she kept on talking, |
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'Till her father's cottage came into view. |
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Says she, "Come in, sir, and meet my father, |
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And play to please him The Foggy Dew." |
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She sat me down beside the fire |
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I could see her father, he was six feet tall. |
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And soon her mother had the kettle singing |
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All I could think of was the Galway shawl. |
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I played The Blackbird and The Stack of Barley |
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Rodney's Glory and The Foggy Dew |
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She sang each note like an Irish linnet. |
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Whilst the tears stood in her eyes of blue. |
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'Twas early, early, all in the morning, |
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When I hit the road for old Donegal. |
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She said goodbye, sir, she cried and kissed me, |
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And my heart remained with that Galway shawl. |
